CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AULAY DIDN’T WANT to leave Auchenard, and put it off as long as Lottie would allow it, but eventually, he couldn’t disagree—they’d been gone too long and he had to face reality. Lottie would be missed and his father...well, his father would demand an explanation.
As they approached the Balhaire gates, unrepentant—at least he was—Catriona appeared, darting through the gates as if she were being chased. She glanced furtively around her as she hurried to them. But as she neared them, she slowed. She looked at Aulay, her eyes wide with surprise.
Lottie jumped off the horse before Aulay could help her, and nervously touched her hair. He had to admit he was rather clumsy when it came to assisting a woman to pin her hair—the result was a bit of a bird’s nest.
“Where have you been?” Catriona demanded.
Aulay shrugged and loosened the harness on his horse in order to avoid his sister’s shrewd gaze. “I thought Miss Livingstone would enjoy the gardens at Auchenard. Daisy is quite proud of it,” he said, referring to his sister-in-law, who had done the work herself.
Catriona smirked. “Oh, that she is.” She stepped forward, so that Lottie couldn’t hear her. “But the gardens at Auchenard were cleared after a blight took her roses last spring.”
Bloody hell. Aulay hadn’t actually looked at the gardens. “Aye, that’s what we discovered,” he muttered, and looked his sister squarely in the eye, daring her to challenge him further.
Catriona was too cagey for him. She turned to Lottie, who had come around her horse. “How did you find the gardens at Auchenard, Lottie?”
“Oh! Aye, they were bonny,” she said. “No’ as bonny as your mother’s gardens, no, but all that color!” She shook her head as if marveling at it.
Catriona shot her brother a look. “Color,” she scoffed. “I should verra much like to speak more about the gardens, I would, but we’ve unexpected guests.”
Lottie blanched. “He’s here, then, the justice of the peace?”
“Worse,” Catriona said. “Roy Campbell and his sons.”
Lottie glanced at Aulay with confusion. “For us?”
“Perhaps you ought to return to the gatehouse, aye?” Aulay said calmly, but his heart was suddenly slamming against his ribs. There were a lot of Campbells in the Highlands, and perhaps it was nothing...but a call just now seemed suspect. Aulay put his hand on Lottie’s elbow. “Stay there until someone sends for you, aye? Keep your clan in the gatehouse. Go, lass.”
“Aye,” she said, and turned away with a frown of worry.
When she’d gone, Aulay asked, “Why have they come?”
“I donna know,” Catriona said as they began to walk toward the castle. “Pappa has ordered them a meal and has sent a lad after Rabbie.” She paused at the gates and looked her brother up and down. “Best you go and comb your hair and change your shirt,” she said, and disappeared inside.
A half hour later, Aulay entered the great hall to find his father and Rabbie seated at a long table in the company of three men. They rose as he entered, and Roy Campbell extended his hand. “Captain Mackenzie,” he said jovially. “We meet again.”
Aulay had no recollection of meeting this man. “Have we met, then?”
“You donna recall it? A few years ago, in Whitehaven.”
Aulay suddenly remembered. Roy Campbell and some other men had fallen into their cups and were treating a serving girl ill. Aulay had intervened. It had ended with a black eye for him, but the lass had escaped their rough hands. “Aye, now that you mention, I do indeed,” he said coolly. “What brings you to Balhaire, then? Our serving girls are our own, aye?”
Roy Campbell chuckled. “We’ve heard an interesting tale, we have, so preposterous that we had to come and hear it for ourselves, aye?”
“What tale is that?” Rabbie asked, his voice just as cool as Aulay’s.
“My sons and I have come from Port Glasgow, aye? And there we heard that the mighty Captain Aulay Mackenzie had been overrun by pirates and had lost his ship and, moreover, had asked for a justice of the peace to be sent to Balhaire. Naturally, we were all astonishment at the news,” he said, feigning shock, “particularly as this had come on the heels of another impossible rumor we’d heard about the Mackenzies.”
“Aye, go on,” Aulay said impatiently.
“Have you no’ heard it, then? A ship flying the royal flag was sailing the waters off the eastern coast, it was, on the hunt for pirates and whisky runners at our behest. You’d no’ believe the scoundrels that try and steal our trade, aye? This particular ship happened upon a wee ship that ought no’ to have been so far out to sea. There was a bit of skirmish, there was, and the wee boat was struck. But she hit the naval ship with a shot of her own and started a fire on her deck, of all things. The captain was quick-witted, that he was, and he turned the ship about to save his men. But he saw a curious thing as he returned to shore.”
“What?” Aulay’s father said darkly, having no patience for Campbell’s games.
“He saw a ship flying the flag of the Mackenzies sailing in the direction of the wee ship. To render aid, do you suppose? To salvage any cargo, perhaps? But what cargo might that wee ship have carried? Quite a mystery, is it no’?”
The Mackenzies remained silent. Roy Campbell looked to each one of them, expecting some answer. When he received none, he asked, “Might it have been you, Captain Mackenzie? You seem the sort to render aid. Might you have manned the ship that sailed to help the smaller one?”
Aulay steadily held the man’s gaze.
Roy Campbell leaned across the table to look him in the eye. “The English donna take lightly to losing their ships, they do no’.”
“Is there anyone who takes kindly to it?” Aulay asked.
“The bounty,” one of the sons muttered.
“Och, I almost forgot, did I?” Roy Campbell said. “The bounty. Perhaps you might recall if you saw a wee ship on the North Sea when I explain.”
“Then explain it, for God’s sake,” Rabbie said irritably.
Roy Campbell smiled. “We Campbells donna care if that naval ship sinks or floats or is hacked to bits to make tables, aye? Our concern is much more personal,” he said, tapping his chest. “We are building a trade of fine Scotch whisky—a legitimate trade. We’ve all the badges and papers and whatnot the crown requires, that we do, and we’ve gone to great pains to get them. What we canna and will no’ tolerate are illicit stills that undermine our legitimate operation, aye? It makes us verra unhappy.”
As if on cue, his two sons nodded.
“What has that to do with us?” Aulay’s father asked.
“When we heard the tale of the naval ship, we thought to ourselves, what would cause a wee ship to fire on a vessel of the Royal Navy?” he asked, tapping a finger to his head. “They must have had something on board they didna want the crown to find, would you no’ agree?”
Aulay shrugged.
“We are searching the Highlands like an Englishman searches for a nit on his periwig to find the man who sailed that wee ship. We’ll find him, too, we will.”
Aulay hoped his expression did not reveal the thudding of his nerves.
“The crown has offered a bounty to whoever can bring in these thieves, aye? We Campbells have added to that bounty, for we would verra much like to put an end to the bastards who undercut our trade.”
“Your trade is being undercut across the Highlands,” Aulay’s father said. “But no’ by us. What is the reason for your call?”
“The bounty is a good one, lads. A sum so dear that there are ships sailing around Scotland as we speak, looking for the culprits. And do you know that no’ a fortnight ago, they verra nearly caught one? Och, but the ship eluded them. Or...did it perhaps sink?”
“I’ll ask it again, I will,” Aulay’s father said. “What has that to do with us?”
“Would you care to at least know the bounty?” Campbell asked cheerfully.
“Of course we want to know,” Rabbie said gruffly. “When you unwind a tale so fantastically, what do you think, then?”
“Five thousand pounds, it is,” Roy Campbell said, and sat back to allow the surprise of it to sink in. “That’s quite a lot of money, is it no’? What do you think, Alistair,” he said, directing his question to one of his sons. “Would five thousand pounds build a new ship?”
“Perhaps no’ all, but quite close, aye,” Alistair agreed.
“All we would need from you, sir, is a name. Just the name of the scoundrel who sailed that wee ship. Whoever the bloody blackguard is, he canna escape the scuttling of a royal ship or the Campbells. If you donna tell us who he is, we’ll find him eventually, so you might as well give us the gentleman’s name, sir, and there you have it, enough money to build the ship you’ve lost.”
Aulay’s blood was racing hot as his head warred with his heart. He wondered what his father was thinking just now, if the name Livingstone was on the very tip of his father’s tongue. He wondered if Rabbie desired to admit what these men suspected was true, to give them the name of who was responsible for the scuttling of that royal ship. If he did, the Mackenzies would have the money they needed to pay for the cargo they’d lost and begin the construction of a new ship. Without it, Aulay’s only hope was that the MacDonalds would take him on, and he’d spend the next years outrunning the crown and privateers and Campbells like a bloody pirate just so his family could pay for what they’d lost.
Moreover, a justice of the peace was on his way. Which was worse for the Livingstones—the law? Or the Campbells?
But there was something else that was niggling at Aulay. Roy Campbell assumed that whoever had done this was a man. Not Lottie—a man.
“Well?” Roy Campbell asked Aulay. “Have you a name?”
“I would that I did,” he said casually.
Campbell’s gaze narrowed. “Perhaps you need to sleep on it. Perhaps you need to remind yourself why you sent for a justice of the peace, aye?”
“We sent for a justice of the peace because we lost another man’s cargo,” Rabbie said. “There’s quite a lot to do about it.”
Campbell’s face darkened. “Think on it,” he said again. “I’m sure it will come to you. But donna think too long—if you give the name to the justice, well...the bounty will no’ include the Campbell part of it, and willna be enough to build that ship.” He smiled, his expression unctuous. He rose to his feet. “’Tis a new justice of the peace, aye? I hear he’s no’ as lenient as the last. Mr. Ross, he is.”
“Ross!” Aulay’s father repeated. “What happened to MacRay, then? He’s been the justice of the peace in these parts for years.”
“MacRay has been relieved of his duties, he has.” Campbell smiled thinly. “Too lenient on the Scots, I’ve heard it said.”
“What, then, Campbell, you’ll no’ stay for supper?” his father drawled as his sons came to their feet, too.
“No, thank you,” he said. “We’re to call on the MacDonalds. Perhaps they’ve seen something, aye? I’ve heard Miss Lizzie MacDonald is a frequent visitor to Balhaire. Perhaps she’s seen something when ferrying back and forth.”
“It would seem you’ve heard quite a lot said,” Aulay’s father said.
“Aye, milord. We pride ourselves on knowing our neighbors, that we do.”
“Well, safe journey to you. Frang, see the gentlemen out,” he said, brooking no possibility of continuing this discussion.
When they had gone, the three Mackenzies exchanged a look. “Five thousand pounds is a lot of money, aye?” his father said to Aulay.
“Aye.”
“The justice of the peace will arrive on the morrow. The Livingstones will face the consequences of their actions one way or another,” his father mused.
Aulay said nothing.
“God in heaven, donna look so woebegone, lad!” his father said impatiently, flicking a wrist at Aulay. “As if I’ve asked you to put your best dog out of its misery, aye? We agreed, a wrong has been done to us and there must be consequences. The only question is whether the consequences bring us a bounty or no’. We could sorely use it.”
“I donna disagree,” Aulay said evenly. Not out loud, he didn’t.
“I donna trust the Campbells,” Rabbie said.
“Nor should you,” his father agreed. “Aye, but five thousand pounds would be a godsend.” He glanced at Aulay. “I leave it to you, Aulay. You are the one who was wronged and you will be the one to give them her name. If you donna give the name to the Campbells, the justice of the peace will determine her fate.”
“I understand,” Aulay said tightly. He understood far better than his father could begin to understand. “If you will excuse me?” He stood up and quit the room as quickly as he could without appearing to sprint. He felt sick to his stomach—it was churning with disbelief, with indecision, with despair. No matter what he did—give the Campbells her name, let the justice of the peace decide, or defy his father—someone would be hurt.
But it would be nothing quite like the painful shattering of his heart.